


Dared Not to Wish

by StrandsofNehn



Series: you were the moon [2]
Category: Dragon Age 2
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Morning Sex, super fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 21:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11388981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrandsofNehn/pseuds/StrandsofNehn
Summary: Mornings never used to be Hawke's favorite, but things change. Thank the Maker, things change.





	Dared Not to Wish

**Author's Note:**

> A sort of Part 2 to my other Drabble pile [Three Years Without You](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5147903/chapters/11851004). I hope y'all enjoy!

Her sister would laugh if she heard, but mornings have become Hawke’s favorite time of day. The ones where she's warm and lazy and a little indignant that sunlight managed to curl its way over the bed and onto her face. Not much different than the way mornings have always felt but unlike when she was young, it’s not farmers chores and squabbling siblings that rouse her-- it's something all around _better_. Her lover at her back, one of his arms loose over her waist, the other under his pillow, his heartbeat softly pressed to her shoulder-blade, his breath just above her ear.

It’s a gamble for who will wake first but one will always wait for the other. They’ve both been accustomed to lives where sunrise meant they were late for duties, or that they’ve stayed too long in one place, the years spent on the run so deeply ingrained in Fenris they passed seamlessly to Hawke, so subtle neither could quite tell when it happened. 

She can always tell that he's awake, his arms tighten around her, careful not to jostle her and he sighs a beautiful, contented sigh into her hair. How he can tell when she wakes, she doesn’t know. Her breathing probably changes or maybe her heartbeats... her romantic side likes to attribute it to some deeper than words connection, but he always knows. He'll drag his nose along her neck, her feathered hair will do nothing to dissuade him, as he plants a kiss or two or three along her skin. She'll sigh her mirror to his and floop a turn to face him, nuzzle her face into his neck before he can even kiss her good morning.

Then she'll commence her own routine and run her nose in a soft arc from his collar to under his jaw, mouth a kiss to the skin there and wrap her arms around him, pressing herself closer still. He’ll kiss her temple and murmur a good morning that is sinfully deep and gravelly that sends goosebumps over her skin, despite the warm bed. She'll respond in kind.

They’ll lay there a while longer, if they can, fingers trailing idly across available skin. Sometimes Fenris will pull her hand to the unmarred flesh between lines of lyrium, shaking his head softly and she'll press a kiss to his cheek in understanding: a bad day. Lyrium is not meant for caressing, he told her once. She’d laughed, almost refuted with some silly, offhanded comment before she could realize. She should have known before ( _why_  she didn't put it together she still doesn't know) but the lyrium, as beautiful and heartbreaking as it is, can be painful. It flares like a busted knee or Hawke's wrist when it rains but _all over._  

Those days she feels the familiar, cold rage in her belly at a man long dead rile but does her best to go about their day as usual. She’ll ask to touch him with simple hums and questioning looks that they’ve long perfected since that day and he’ll incline his head so softly no one else would catch or his lips would press together briefly. Simple ways to say yes or no.

He still holds her most mornings. There’s only been days enough to count on one hand where it was so bad he couldn’t. While she does not and would never hold it against him, Fenris is always particularly stoic and irritable those days. _Brooding_ Varric would say. If he only knew. But he doesn’t, and neither do their other friends-- though sometimes Hawke thinks they suspect.

But this morning, is a good morning. Hawke knows because Fenris’ hand is trailing down to her rear and cupping her, dragging her closer. She hums against his lips and lets herself be coaxed to her back, his body draping over hers lazily. His kisses are soft and open, moving from her mouth to her neck, one hand coasting up and down her side and the other holding himself up by her head. His warm hand pushes up her tight fitting shirt, resting on the start of her ribs before reaching to her breast, thumb rolling over a nipple. She hums her approval and loses her hands in his heavenly soft hair.

His kisses get more intentional, waking up a bit, but they’re still coated with that morning haze Hawke loves so much. She opens her legs a bit wider and he settles into the provided space before he rubs himself against her through their underwear. Hawke moans and feels him smile. She shifts her hands to his shoulders and starts to move them toward the hem of his own sleep shirt. Fenris catches her hand and she pauses, looking at his face and he shakes his head minutely before kissing her again.

So, a good morning for her all around. A good one for Fenris if the touching is initiated by him.

Some days are like that and Hawke returns her hands to his hair, a touch he hadn’t disallowed. He hums against her when she tugs on the locks as he starts bearing more of his weight onto her. It's a good hum. After a few minutes of lazily rubbing themselves together Fenris finally removes Hawke’s smalls. She’s sure to wiggle her hips to help him. He chuckles and comes back over her again. With a push of his leggings off his hips and a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth, he slides in.

Being with Fenris is _always_ good. Always kind, gentle and rough by turns, silly when she is and loving in a way she’s never experienced or even thought to wish for. This morning is no different. He moves slowly, filling her with each stroke that has her breathing a mess. She tries not to buck into him but she loses the battle a few times. He doesn’t seem bothered, just puts even more of his weight onto her, pushing her into the bed in the way that Hawke can’t get enough of. He kisses all over her shoulders and chest, mouthing at her collarbone but not biting like he may usually.

Her grip on his hair may have become a bit too tight because he laughs and grasps a wrist, putting it on his shoulder then the other. She manages a quick, apologetic smile before he’s moving again. Still trying not to touch him beyond what he’s indicated is okay, Hawke lifts a leg to the side as much as she can. Fenris pauses enough for her to angle it comfortably and starts moving faster. Her breath catches.

His voice comes to her ear and starts a litany of sweet nothings, dotted with dirty compliments that have Hawke’s toes curling and mouth falling open. Fenris kisses her exposed throat when she throws her head back and continues through the quaking of her walls until he’s found his own end with a harsh groan at her neck that Hawke deems the sexiest sound she’s ever heard.

They lay there for a lazy moment, sweaty and still half dressed, Hawke’s shirt bunched over one breast. Fenris gives it a kiss and pulls himself off her, pushing the shirt back down as he does.

“A moment.”

Hawke shrugs at him, too tired and sated to really argue. It pulls a fond smile from him. He gets up from bed, resituating his leggings as he goes, headed to the wash bowl. Hawke smiles and enjoys the kiss to her forehead as he helps her clean up. She’s surprised when he climbs back into bed after finishing with it but she doesn’t resist when he tugs her back to him. She rests her head on his shoulder and lets her hand fall on his other at the tap on her arm.

“Are we getting out of bed today?” Hawke asks, only slightly coy.

Fenris chuckles, the vibrations of his chest under her cheek treasured. “In due time.”

She laughs, too. Perhaps nuzzling a bit she sighs, soft and utterly content with her life in this moment.

“I love you,” she says.

“As I love you,” he returns.

And it’s enough. Maker, it’s more than enough. It’s everything she didn’t dare to wish for.

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all been asking for fluffy piece set after [Three Years Without You](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5147903/chapters/11851004) which is a series about their time apart after That Night. This takes place after the last chapter when they _finally_ get together but it is a bit of a time skip, idk how much, but luckily-- it doesn't much matter. Have some precious morning sex. 
> 
>  
> 
> _Let me know what you think! Comments, kudos, keyboard smashes are all appreciated and cherished._


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